light flashed from the eyeholes of the grey mask.

"Mesdames," said the vicomte with elaborate courtesy, "the sight of the
Indian doubtless alarms you, but he is perfectly harmless. Permit a
gentleman to offer his services to two ladies who appear to be
traveling alone."

Father Chaumonot frowned from his chair and would have risen but for
the restraining hand of Bouchard, who, like all seamen, was fond of
gallantry.

"Monsieur," replied the black mask, coldly and impudently, "we are
indeed alone; and upon the strength of this assertion, will you not
resume your conversation with yonder gentlemen and allow my companion
and myself to continue ours?"

"Mademoiselle," said the vicomte eagerly, "I swear to you, that your
voice is familiar to my ears." He addressed the black mask, but he
looked searchingly at the grey. His reward was small. She maintained
under his scrutiny an icy, motionless dignity.

"And permit me to say," returned the black mask, "that while your voice
is not familiar, the tone is, and very displeasing to my ears. And if
you do not at once resume your seat, I shall be forced to ask aid of
yonder priest."

"Yes, yes! that voice I have heard before!" Then, quick as a flash, he
had plucked the strings of her mask, disclosing a round, piquant face,
now white with fury.

"Oh, Monsieur!" she cried; "if I were a man!"

"This grows interesting," whispered Bouchard to Du Puys.

"Anne de Vaudemont?" exclaimed the vicomte; "in Rochelle?" The vicomte
stepped back confused. He stared undecidedly at mademoiselle's
companion. She deliberately turned her back.

Victor was upon his feet, and his bottle of wine lay frothing on the
floor. He came forward.

"Vicomte, your actions are very disagreeable to me," he said. The end
of his scabbard was aggressively high in the air. He was not so tall a
man as the vicomte, but his shoulders were as broad and his chest as
deep.

Neither the vicomte nor the poet heard the surprised exclamation which
came with a muffled sound from behind the grey mask. She swayed
slightly. The younger threw her arms around her, but never took her
eyes from the flushed countenance of Victor de Saumaise.

"Indeed!" replied the vicomte coolly; "and how do you account for
that?" He spoke with that good nature which deceives only those who are
not banterers themselves.

"It is not necessary to particularize," proudly, "to a gentleman of
your wide accomplishments."

"Mon